Part of me

Most people who know me, know that I was raised in Florida.
I was born in Salt lake city, Utah and my parents moved me and my siblings to Tampa six months past my 1st birthday.

I get my share of homesickness when I realize how blessed my life was, just being there. And there are specific things I miss other than my crazy, Florida cracker family.

 I miss sitting under a giant oak tree and watching the spanish moss sway in the wind.

I miss the east-coast sunrises. it's like standing on the edge of the world and watching God create light for the first time.

I miss the constant noise. the bugs and birds and frogs join together in a chorus so loud it's practically deafening.

I miss the smell of the air before a thunderstorm. it smells like water straight from the hose, which for some reason is incredibly comforting.

I miss how far away everything is. I used to enjoy driving. Taking the back roads was more of a pleasure than taking the freeway. Everyday was a beautiful day. The time commuting gave me a lot of quality time with the radio and when I didn't feel like listening to music, I would think. I'd think about life, about Christ, my future, and the questions of the universe (like why we have eyebrows, and why men only have half of normal blood flow to their brain)

I miss the clouds. I used to lay in the grass and watch the clouds move and change shape, and try to find the face of God in them.

I miss my accent, and yeah it was slight, but it makes me sad that it only comes back when i get really angry.
I miss picking my own produce, and produce stands. It was so cheap.
 I miss tomatoes so good you could eat them like an apple.

I miss subs from Publix deli, sandals at beall's outlet, and the sweet barbeques sauce from sonny's barbeque. I miss beef o'brady's onion rings and car washes at bob evans. I miss the feeling of salty hair and sunkissed skin, and the smell of sunscreen and tanning oil after a day at the beach. it has some healing powers. I've never felt worse after a day at the beach, only sandier.

 I miss my grandmother. I miss her Green beans, and her ham salad sandwiches. There was always something to eat. I miss her red kitchen and her yellow den. I miss her collection of pig decor. I miss her gossip, and her piano playing. I miss her permed hair, and her apple green telephone with makeup all over it. I miss her butterfly garden and her tree swing. I miss the anthills and the piles of dead bark in her huge backyard. I miss her creepy garden shed and her ominous citrus tree. I miss the room full of porcelain dolls. I miss the tables full of scrap-booking supplies, and the view from her sewing room.

I miss people who take the time to listen. I miss going out on the boat.

I miss the slow pace.Time is just an illusion there.

 I miss the water. I miss the color green, and life flourishing around me.

I miss the genuine interest The elderly have towards young people, and vice versa.

I miss the stability. Everything remains the same. 

I miss this part of me.


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